You're just not cute enough
by Mrs Snowball
Summary: With a growing family, Major Mint needs money. Can he make it in the new, modern movies? Will a former villain's sidekick actually be of any help? There's only one way to find out...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I think I should explain that this is more of a satire than a parody. It was inspired, rather heavily, by Mattel's recent "rebranding" of the movies. I don't really agree with this decision, but this won't just be a giant rant about the new, modern, "fashion orientated" movies. I'm hoping to give this a point, even if it's not clear right now. _

Major Mint was broke. Not "running low on funds", not "a little short of money"; just plain, flat out broke, and it couldn't have been at a worse time.

He'd received the news at around 7:30 that morning, just as he'd set out for work and the boys had set out for school. The letter had been lying there on the floor, and he'd scooped it up as he'd strode out. It was undoubtedly going to be more bills, he'd thought, and that was the last thing Elizabeth needed to deal with in her condition. They'd seemed to acquire more and more bills as the year went on, and the more they arrived, the harder it was to pay them. So that was what Mint had expected; another bill. Instead, he found a bank statement declaring that all their money was gone.

It had haunted him like a ghost. What would they do? How would they get it back? How did it happen in the first place?

Elizabeth, when he told her, hadn't been much help.

"What do you mean, we're broke?" she asked frantically.

"I mean just what I said," her husband replied. "We have no money, Lizzie."

"But – but we've got to have money! They can't just not pay you, Robert! What about your job?"

Mint shook his head. The army may as well have not existed, it did so little for the community. Since this kingdom had plenty of good witches and fairies to defend it, all the army had to do was patrol the border between their home and the villains', and since the villains never did anything anymore, there wasn't much point in paying them vast amounts of money.

"Well, what... what about the profits you earn? What about all that? We can't just be broke, Robert! We can't! What about our sons? What about..."

Her hand drifted to her stomach; whether it was intentional or not, Mint couldn't be sure. She was starting to show now, and that only made the Major feel even worse.

"Lizzie," he said gently, putting his hand in front of her. "You need to calm down."  
"How can I calm down?" she asked him. "How long do you think we'll last without money?"

"But we can get money. You just keep writing those songs of yours. Those people at the theatre always pay you for them, don't they?"

Elizabeth nodded, but she still looked terrified. "I can't work there forever. I'll have to go on maternity leave soon, they insisted on it-"

"But you don't have to leave right now. You just keep doing that, and I'll..." he took a deep breath. "I'll go get those profits."

Elizabeth looked all flustered at the thought of it. "Oh, no, I can do that-"

"No, you cannot. You'll be too busy writing those songs and keeping an eye on things, is that clear?"

"But you'd hate doing that, dear; it'll feel like you're begging!"

"No, it won't."

Yes, it did.

There was nothing quite so harrowing as the walk to the communications centre. It was on the far side of the kingdom, stuck on an isolated road. Once you went down that road, everyone knew where you were headed and why. It was embarrassing beyond words, but Major Mint kept walking. He had no other choice.

As he passed through the centre of town, he silently cursed the place's existence. It had seemed like such a good idea on paper – putting everyone from this franchise in the same place – but it didn't seem to benefit anyone who actually lived there. The citizens had been yanked from their respective kingdoms and lumped together in this great big one. It was never given a proper name; it had started out as the "Mini Kingdom", which was a laugh in itself seeing as it was now the size of a small city. As more movies were made, more cast members moved in and even the producers who ran this place realised what a stupid name it was. Now it was simply "the kingdom", and it seemed to be growing every day. Even from where Mint stood, he could see more signs of the population increasing; something called "Fashion Fairytale". He didn't know what that was and he didn't want to know. He had nothing in common with these new people and they didn't seem to want to know him. Plus, they meant his chance of earning anything decreased rapidly.

While the citizens of the kingdom were, for the most part, completely sheltered from the outside world, they knew how well their movies were doing because every time their face appeared on merchandise, they'd get paid. If you starred in a book, you got paid. If your movie was re-released, you got paid. Being made into a doll was the ultimate goldmine because you earned something for every time someone bought it. These "profits", as they were known, were the only real way anyone could make money in this kingdom without taking on a job, and jobs were in short supply. Not surprisingly, the main cast members earned the most money, which is why the main street seemed to consist entirely of pretty blonde girls in huge castles. If you starred in a new movie, you were basically covered for the next two years, providing people liked it. But you had to make the most of it; once your movie faded into obscurity, the money stopped rolling in.

That was Major Mint's problem. His movie was one of the most obscure. It was never mentioned in merchandise, and when it was, _he_ never got anything because _he_ wasn't mentioned. It wasn't something he'd minded before – he'd had the army to cover his family's needs – but the army wasn't bringing in much anymore. What Mint was thinking, as he walked down that road, was that, somewhere out there, there was money that belonged to him. Something from this film had to have sold, or this kingdom probably wouldn't exist. There had to be something out there with him in it. There _had_ to be.

He still wasn't looking forward to putting this across, though. Most people didn't visit the communications centre; they just waited for their money to come to them. The only ones who actually went and asked for it were really, really desperate. It wasn't _quite_ on the same level as begging for money in the streets, but almost.

Major Mint had always found begging to be quite undignified.

"So," drawled the producer, "you're Major Mint, right?"

Mint nodded, briefly distracted by the office he'd been ushered in. He'd expected this place to look smart and dignified – since these people ran the kingdom, it was practically a given – but he hadn't expected it to be so _pink_. It was almost embarrassing.

The producer – whose name was apparently Jason and how he could stand to work in this pink office, Mint would never know – looked at him patronisingly over his desk. "And what are you here for, Major?"

"I'm here to ask about my profits," replied the Major. "I know it's been a while since my film was released, but I'm sure I'm entitled to something, aren't I?"

"Need the money, huh?"

Mint didn't say anything to that. He could only stare at the ludicrously pink desk and wonder if he could sink any lower. Meanwhile, Jason was tapping away at the rose-coloured computer.

"You are aware," he suddenly announced, "that 'Nutcracker' was released before this kingdom even existed, right?"

"Of course." He knew that already. He quite clearly remembered moving here; his eldest son, Robert Jr, had been about five at the time. "I am still entitled to something, though, aren't I?"

"... Not really, no."

The Major's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're getting paid for re-releases and this sticker book you were in a while back, but that's it. "

"Oh, come on! That's preposterous! What about storybooks and dolls and things? I was in those, wasn't I?"

Jason seemed hesitant.

"Wasn't I?" asked the Major again.

The producer shook his head. Mint sprang up and put both hands on the desk, slamming them down and glaring at the younger man. He'd be damned if he'd taken this humiliating walk and sat down in this ridiculous office for nothing!

"I was in that film," he hissed. "I played a big role in those events. You can ask anyone. My wife will confirm it. My friends will confirm it. You cannot – _cannot_ – tell me that they've not given me anything."

"Oh, they acknowledged you," Jason replied, unusually calmly given the situation he was in. "But it's... well, it's not really _you_, Major. That's why you're not getting paid for it."

"Well, who is?"

"This little boy, Ken's brother... Tommy, his name is."

"Why's a little boy getting credit for _my_ work?"

Jason didn't say anything; all he did was turn the monitor towards Mint. The Major looked at it. His eyes widened.

The doll was dressed perfectly; that was his uniform. It had his name on the box and everything. The only problem was that the doll was a toddler. In fact, the doll looked more like one of Mint's children than the Major himself.

"_WHAT THE DEVIL IS THAT?"_ shouted the Major.

Jason showed him another picture, this time from the "Nutcracker" storybook. Once again, the uniform was perfect; the age wasn't.

The Major sank down into his chair, trying to get a grip on the whole situation. His hands were clenched into fists, and Jason felt slightly relieved that there was a heavy desk between him and the officer.

"How could this happen?" he asked. His anger appeared to have been replaced by outright confusion. "I suppose I could understand if... if they'd got my name mixed up with the Captain's or something like that, but how could they... how is that even possible?"

Jason sighed. He almost felt sorry for Mint now.

"You really don't know?"

Mint shook his head. "I can't understand it at all. Why on earth would they have me portrayed as a toddler? How much sense does _that_ make?"

"Major," the producer said gently, "it's not a personal thing, I assure you. It's just that this" – and he gestured to the monitor – "sells you better."

"But it's not _me_, is it? It's this little boy!"

"The little boy _is_ you, as for as merchandise is concerned."

"But _why?_ Everyone knows that's not me!"

Jason shook his head. He _really_ had no idea.

"Look, Major; I don't know if you've realised this, but most of this stuff – not just from your movie, all the others too – is bought by small girls. You're an old man who shouts a lot. Small girls don't really like that in a character."

Mint shook his head again; not out of denial, but out of confusion.

"The fact is, Major; you don't sell. Your image doesn't sell. And if your image doesn't sell, then you're not gonna get any profits, are you?"

"But – but that's _ridiculous_!" Mint spluttered. "I have a family to support! I _need_ this money! I'm a good man! I do what's right! What does it _matter_ if I'm old?"

"I'm sorry, Major," the producer told him, "you're just not cute enough."


	2. Tough breaks for everyone

_A/N: The following chapter will contain spoilers for "Barbie: A Fashion Fairytale". _

_"You're just not cute enough." _

Major Mint had been sitting outside the communications centre for nearly ten minutes trying to figure this out and it still made no logical sense. Not cute enough? What did that matter? He'd not only done his job well, he'd done it well enough to deserve some recognition; and, with that, profits. There was no way his family would be left to starve just because he wasn't a two-year-old. That was beyond superficial.

_At this rate, _thought the Major angrily, _my sons will be better providers for this family than I will! _

He'd tried to make a grand exit. Mint was usually very good at those; if he'd been paid for every time he stormed out of something, he wouldn't need to come here in the first place. He'd given Jason his most sinister look – the look that said "you'll live to regret this; if you wind up in my regiment I'll make your life _hell_" – strode out and slammed the door so hard it probably echoed throughout the whole building. But when he was faced with that long road, he slumped down onto the pavement. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go back there and tell his family he'd failed; especially because of something like this. For Major Mint, the only thing worse than failing was admitting he'd failed.

"This can't be how it works," he muttered to himself, staring at his shoes. "This just isn't _logical_. I'll go and ask someone like Clara or Stacie; surely _they'll_ be able to-"

He was interrupted by someone slamming the door even harder than he did.

"_You'll pay for this!"_ shrieked an angry, male voice. _"I'll get my representative on your backs, you have my word!" _

Mint knew he recognised that voice.

"_I've been here two hours – TWO HOURS! I'm not leaving until I get what I'm entitled to!" _

"I'm sorry, Lord Gastrous," replied the secretary in a surprisingly calm manner. "I'm afraid you're not entitled to anything."

"_Oh, that's a load of-"_

Mint stood up and turned in the direction of the fight. He _definitely_ recognised that voice. Lord Gastrous was a work colleague; when he'd moved in, he'd taken up a job in the army because it was the closest thing he could get to his old job. Since they were both stuffy Englishmen with a tendency towards arrogance and a devotion to obeying and giving out orders, the two of them became firm friends. It was a particularly interesting friendship; the Lord not only outranked him, he was a fairy with wings and everything. He was using them now, floating about two feet above the ground in an attempt to be intimidating. It didn't work in the secretary; she closed the door behind her, leaving the old man fluttering in the air for a couple of seconds before he saw Mint looking at him.

"Ah, good evening, Major," he said wearily. "I see you've been reduced to this, too."

The Major nodded slowly. Admitting it to the Lord didn't seem quite as bad, somehow; after all, he'd been open about his lack of success. "Have you really been in there for _two hours_?"

Gastrous nodded, landing on the ground. "And it did me no good whatsoever. They kept telling me I'm not worth any profits. How ridiculous! After all I did!"

"I didn't know you needed profits, Gastrous," remarked the Major. "I didn't even know you had a family."

"Oh, no; I never had time for a family. But I could use the money... and the recognition. It would be nice to be recognized again, wouldn't it?"

Mint nodded.

"So, how'd it go for you, Major? Did they leave you out of books, too?"

"They replaced me with a toddler."

Gastrous raised an eyebrow. "My _word_."

The two men walked along the road together, their conversation topics becoming more and more mundane. It was not quite so bad when there was someone else to walk down that road with you; someone who had experienced the humiliation as well, and knew just how it felt.

"Do you know what's really unfair about this, Major?" asked the Lord. "Here we are, two experienced army officers, and we're reduced to begging. How on earth did that happen?"

"I thought it's obvious," Mint replied. "Girls don't like old men. That's the gist of what they told me. We could've taken up tap-dancing and we still wouldn't get any money."

Gastrous sighed. "Still, you'd have thought that wouldn't matter."

"You stand a better chance than I do, Gastrous. _You're_ a fairy. Everyone knows girls like fairies."

"Not fairies like me, obviously."

As they reached the end of the road, they returned to the more mundane topics of conversation again. The Major told his friend about his wife's work at the theatre. Gastrous promised he'd pay a visit. He recommended a new shop which specialised in uniforms. Mint took note of it. Neither of them mentioned the real problem until it was time to go their separate ways.

"I'll see you at work, then?" asked the Major.

Gastrous nodded. Then, sadly, he added: "good luck, Mint."

"You too."

And now he was alone again. He sighed, and prepared himself to tell his wife about his unsuccessful trip.

The villains, no matter how new they were, didn't stand a chance of getting a nice house in the kingdom. No one would want them for a neighbour, and anyone who tried to pretend otherwise would be driven out by an angry mob. The villains were shunted off into a smaller, dirtier town on the edge of the kingdom, and the best they could do with their money was make sure their home didn't look like a glorified shack, on the inside at least.

Still, no amount of money would be enough to give you a comfortable life in this place. They couldn't get far into the kingdom without being forced out, so all their food came from the 99 cent store on the very edge of the border. Weapons were illegal. Clothes were worn until they were ragged. Friendships were difficult to form because all the neighbours kept arguing about why their evil schemes failed. As if all that wasn't enough, their dignity was reduced even more by the constant army patrols. Some of the villains would've preferred jail. At least jail had better food.

Delphine thought it was hell.

She didn't deserve to be here. She told herself this every day and even if no one else believed it was the truth, she was certain it was. She wasn't even technically a villain; she was the villain's _sidekick_. Besides, hadn't she said she was sorry? Okay, she'd actually nodded, but didn't it count?

No; apparently not. The fact that she and her boss, Jacqueline, were the only villains to actually repent for their actions meant nothing in the eyes of the producers. They were designated villains, and they would be treated like such. So here they were, stuck in a shack with unfashionable decorating and food on the verge of expiring. Delphine couldn't tell which was worse.

Delphine had decided to work for Jacqueline because she loved her style. She'd hoped that she'd learn from the experience, that she'd eventually make a name for herself in the world of fashion and maybe even manage to do something with her life. Now she was no longer designing anything, however, the appeal had worn off fast. Delphine was now little more than Jacqueline's personal servant. It was Delphine who did all the housework, who scrambled to find decent clothes, who tried to negotiate with the other villains. The only part she liked about this was the shopping; even if all they got was food, it gave her a chance to get out of the place. This was what she was doing now; paying a quick trip to the 99 cent store to stock up on supplies.

She was relieved to see there were no soldiers waiting around by the border. She didn't know where they'd gone. She didn't care. However, the lack of soldiers meant she wouldn't be searched, and Delphine detested being searched. She never carried any weapons, and the fact anyone thought she would was almost as embarrassing as being forced to live here in the first place.

As she entered the store, she glared out at the rest of the city. She may not have been here very long, but she knew what would happen if she decided to pay a visit there. She'd heard all the stories about angry mobs and flaming torches. And for what? She wasn't a bad person. She didn't deserve to live like this.

_What I need,_ she realised as she got on with the shopping, _is an opportunity. A way of showing that I'm not as evil as those other guys. Then I'll be able to go wherever I want, without having to worry about mobs and searches and soldiers-_

Then she stopped.

There was a soldier right next to her.


	3. The soldier and the sidekick

Delphine stood very, very still. Since she had been leaning out to pick up some frozen peas, this wasn't an easy task. Still, she tried not to lose her balance as she observed the soldier cautiously.

He didn't seem to want anyone to know what his occupation was. He was wearing a long, brown coat and keeping his head down. However, he was wearing the coat over his uniform, it wasn't buttoned up and – and this was something even Delphine would've known not to do – he was still wearing his helmet. It would've been hilarious if it weren't for the power this man wielded over her.

Delphine kept watching him, reaching slowly towards the can of tomatoes as she did so. This soldier was very tall, even without his helmet. He was lean, grey haired and had one of those weird moustaches that covered most of his lower face. He also appeared to be wearing a monocle. More importantly, he didn't seem to have noticed her. Briefly, Delphine considered the possibility of abandoning that bag of frozen peas and moving on. She decided against it immediately; Jacqueline had taken a strong liking to frozen peas, and they were among the only edible things they could afford. Besides, the bag was only _just_ out of her reach. It was the last one, too; it might be gone by the time she got back to it. All she had to do was lean over a little further...

Unfortunately, Delphine wasn't known for her grace. She had just brushed the bag with her fingers when she tumbled forward, head first, into the freezer. Fortunately, she wasn't in there for very long; someone helped her out almost immediately, even giving her time to grab the bag of frozen peas. Unfortunately, the person who helped her to her feet was the soldier she'd been trying to avoid in the first place.

"What the devil is wrong with you?" he asked in a thick British accent.

That was it. No arrests. No forced marches back to the shack. Just a question and a confused expression.

An idea popped into Delphine's head. This soldier clearly wasn't up to date on the newest trends, and she and Jacqueline had only arrived here recently. Maybe he had no idea who she was.

She smiled politely. No harm in trying to improve her reputation while the opportunity was there.

Major Mint couldn't believe how bad his luck was. Not only had he been forced to shop in the 99 cent store – which was embarrassing in itself – but he'd ran into someone who was clearly a few sticks short of a bundle.

The Major had no idea who this girl was. He was certain he'd never seen her before – probably because he'd never stooped so low as to shop here before – and he would've recognised her if he had. She was clearly a lot younger than him, with short red hair and a preference for green eyeshadow. She was also talking a lot; stammering on about frozen peas and falling into the freezer. She seemed to have difficulty looking at him. It was almost as if she was afraid of him.

Mint asked the only question he could think of.

"Are you... _French_?"

The girl nodded. "_Oui. _My boss and I just came here from Paris-" She stopped, looking horrified, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Just when he thought she was finally going to stop talking, she put the hand down and opened it again. "Yes, I am French. What about you? Are you British?"

"No; I'm Parthenian."

"What is that? Is that Greek?"

Yes; this girl was _definitely_ a few sticks short of a bundle. The Major turned away from her, bag of nearly-expired vegetables in hand, and was about to walk away when the girl blurted out:

"I didn't expect to see you here!"

Mint spun around. "What?"

"Not that I'm not glad you were here, to pull me out of the freezer. I always assumed soldiers went somewhere better for their food."

It was only as the Major glared at her, his eyes narrowed and his free hand raised, that Delphine realised what a mistake she'd made. All she'd done was attempt to start a friendly conversation, but she'd pushed her luck. Now she'd be arrested, or worse. She backed away, as if putting some distance between herself and the tall man would wipe her words from existence.

"Who _are_ you?" Mint hissed. "You must be from one of those _new_ films; that's why I haven't heard of you."

Delphine nodded shakily, holding the bag of peas in front of her as if it could actually offer her some kind of protection.

"It's all very well and good for _you_, isn't it?" Mint's voice rose as he spat each word at her. "_You're_ popular. _You're_ still getting profits. But we're not all as lucky as you, are we? Some of us _have_ to shop here because we have no choice! Some of us _have_ to eat rotting vegetables and scrounge around for money because we're too _old_ to earn anything!"

Delphine didn't say a word.

"Do you think I _like_ being here? Do you think I _like_ feeding this filth to my family? Do you think I _like_ begging those producers for money? Well, I wasn't given a choice, was I? I am old, therefore I am irrelevant. I am irrelevant, so no money for me; and no money means I _can't_ go somewhere better, much as you seem to think I should!"

And as she stood there, listening to him ranting, Delphine realised something. This soldier was right; he was irrelevant. He wasn't just old, he was outdated. Delphine thought back to the events in her movie, trying to remember if she'd seen anyone like this man. She hadn't. But what if he _could_ be relevant? Would his age really be such a handicap if he was trendy, at least?

This, she realised, was her opportunity. This was her way of showing the world she wasn't evil. The thought excited her so much that she squealed and dropped her bag of frozen peas.

Mint stopped ranting and stared at her.

"_I can help you!" _Delphine cried. "I can make you popular again!"

The Major frowned, more out of confusion than anger. "How can you do that?" he asked her.

"You want to earn profits, yes? Just like the people in the newer movies?"

Mint nodded slowly, not entirely sure what this girl was getting at.

"Well, I am from the newest movie! I know what they like! I can show you how to do those things, and then they'll like you and you'll earn profits again!"

"Is that... is that even _possible_?" asked the Major, his hopes rising nonetheless.

"Of course it is! It doesn't matter how old you are! There was a woman in my movie that would be about the same age as you, and she's making money because she's relevant!"

"Does she... does she actually look like herself in the storybook?"

Delphine frowned. "Of course!" she told him, though she wasn't exactly sure. Still, why wouldn't she?

Mint watched her very carefully, trying to figure out if she was pulling his leg or not. She seemed sincere. Besides, she was certainly from the newer movies, if that ridiculous outfit was anything to go by. Mint couldn't really afford to be choosy; he needed all the help he could get.

"Are you quite sure you can do this?" he asked her carefully. "This is a serious problem for me."

Delphine nodded eagerly.

"Then meet me here at around 4pm. I'll see what you're capable of."

With that, he walked away. Delphine watched him go, her face flushed with excitement. She was going to prove herself. She was going to get out of the shack.

Then she remembered the bag of frozen peas. She picked it up, dropped it into her basket and went off to pay for it, still contemplating her decision.

By the time Mint got home, his sons were already in bed. He assumed they'd gone to sleep. Elizabeth was waiting for him, finishing off some sheet music she'd started work on earlier that day.

"Did you get the vegetables?" she asked him.

Mint nodded. "Better use them soon, though; they'll expire in two days."

Elizabeth frowned; not at the thought of feeding nearly-expired vegetables to her children, but at how oddly relaxed her husband looked. He hadn't seemed so calm since the day he'd returned home from the communications centre.

_Maybe he's getting a promotion, _she thought. _Or maybe some villain tried to escape and he's getting a bonus for catching it. Maybe we just got lucky for once. _

And, if he'd known what she was thinking, Mint might have agreed with her.


	4. Meet the family

Delphine had been waiting for almost an hour before the Major arrived. Not because he wasn't punctual, oh no; she'd got out of the shack as soon as she could, partly because she had to return a DVD before Jacqueline saw it. She'd even managed to tolerate the searches this time; after all, if she pulled this off, she'd never have to deal with it again. Mint tipped his helmet briefly before getting down to business.

"Let's make one thing clear, Miss – what's your name?"

"Delphine."

"Well, Miss Delphine, I will make one thing clear; this needs to work. If I was just taking this risk for myself, I wouldn't be so insistent, but I have put the future of my family in your hands, and I have no intention of letting them down. Is that clear?"

Delphine nodded. Then, almost hesitantly, she said: "it's going to be hard work."

"I am used to hard work."

"No; not the sort of hard work you're used to. You're going to have to go through a complete overhaul." She looked him straight in the eye. "Your family, too."

Mint frowned. "Why do they have to be involved? They don't earn any profits; Lizzie appeared in the background, but that's hardly worthy of anything-"

"Major," Delphine interrupted. "These new movies are _modern_. They don't have all this vintage fairytale prince-and-princess stuff. They have cell phones and Twitter and music sang by pop stars! How can you expect to fit in with that if you go home to a gloomy old house every day?"

"You don't even know what my house looks like!"

Delphine raised an eyebrow. "I have an idea."

Mint glared at her, but he didn't say a word.

"Anyway, it is best for your family to adapt as well. They will need to get used to this new lifestyle too, won't they? Maybe I should meet them."

"N-no, I don't think you should!"

"Why not? It's not like I am going to do anything _bad_, is it?"

The Major thought about this for a while. How could he possibly explain this to Elizabeth? What could he say? "Oh, this girl may _look_ insane, but she's going to help us"?

"Major," Delphine deadpanned. "It needs to be done."

"Does it?"

But apparently she wasn't interested in his answer. She was already tottering off in her high heels. Mint wondered if it was worth pulling her back and insisting against it. Then he remembered how badly he needed the money.

Wearily, he followed her.

Much as Major Mint hated to admit it, Delphine was right; his house _was_ old and gloomy. It was located on the suburbs on the edge of town; an angular building, about three stories high and decorated with a worthy attempt at Victorian architecture. Unlike the other houses on the street (which had things like childrens' toys and plastic flamingos on the front lawns) this one looked almost untouched from the outside. It reminded Delphine of that sinister old house that always showed up in books and films; the kind that none of the kids went near because some murderous lunatic was rumoured to live inside.

She didn't say this to Major Mint.

"Will they all be at home?" she asked instead.

"I should think so," the Major replied. "School's been over for awhile and there aren't any theatre showings that I'm aware of."

Delphine nodded. She watched the house for a few seconds, expecting to see some sign of life. Nothing. She turned back to Mint.

"How many children do you have, Major?"

"Two." Then, nodding proudly, he added: "both boys."

Delphine digested this information carefully.

"I don't suppose," she asked hesitantly, "that your sons are the type to make faces at people and behave in a slightly gross manner?"

Mint sniffed. "_Certainly_ not!"  
_Not much hope there, then, _thought the girl as she followed him up to the door. Once again, she didn't say this out loud.

"Have you got any other relatives?" she asked.

"Me? Oh, just my niece, Stacie. She's our movie's representative."

"Really?" this _was_ interesting. A movie representative was the equivalent of a City Council member; they were responsible for the welfare of the stars from their chosen film. "And she cannot help you with your... profit problems?"

"Oh, no; she's supposed to treat everyone fairly." Then, before Delphine could say anything else, he opened the door and led her inside.

Mint was right; they were at home.

As he led Delphine into the dining room, the first thing she saw was a pair of children sitting at the table. The tallest one was blonde-haired, dressed in a school uniform and was attempting to read a book. The shorter boy was dark-haired, dressed in a loose blue sweater and green pants and was attracting his brother's attention by throwing crayons at him. Both boys froze when they saw the Major.

"Hello, lads," he said to them. "Hard at work?"

"Yes, Father," said the eldest boy. He smiled politely, but both he and the younger boy were staring at Delphine as if she was a completely foreign object.

"These are my sons," explained Mint. "Robert Jr" – he gestured to the eldest boy – "and Cornelius."

Delphine smiled at them.

"You are _so cute_!" she squealed. Well, they were; once you got used to how unnaturally neat they looked, they were quite sweet kids.

"Where's your mother?" Mint asked Cornelius.

"She's lying down," replied the little boy, putting a crayon in his mouth.

"Go and fetch her; and don't put that in your mouth. It's not edible."

Cornelius – _really_, Delphine thought, _only this man would actually call his son Cornelius_ – ran out of the room immediately, dropping the crayon in the process. Robert Jr followed him, probably to make sure he got the job done.

Mint grinned proudly. "Smart lads, aren't they?"

Delphine nodded slowly.

"You know, Robert's actually ahead of the other children in his class. We've had good reports from his teacher."

"And... Cornelius?" Delphine was going to have to practise saying that boy's name with a straight face.

"Oh, he's not at school yet. He only just turned three, and Lizzie's quite protective of him; both of them, actually."

Then he glanced up: "Lizzie" had just entered the room.

Delphine was almost surprised by her; from what she'd seen of Mint's life, she'd expected someone... well, older. This woman was middle-aged, with hair the same shade of brown as Cornelius's and a slim, almost frail figure. Well, _almost_ slim – she was a bit chubby around the waist, and there were bags under her eyes – but she was a lot better than Delphine had expected her to be. There wasn't any place for the boys in the modern movies, but there might be a place for their mother, at least.

"Who are you?" the woman asked her.

Mint stood up and took his wife's hand, bringing her towards them. "Lizzie, this is Delphine. She's from one of the newer films, and she's going to help us make some money."

"Why is she doing that?" asked Elizabeth. She seemed more confused than suspicious.

"That's a good question." The Major looked at Delphine. "Why _are_ you doing this?"

"Because you seem like good people, you need help and I can provide it," she replied. She didn't mention the part about redeeming herself; the last thing these people needed to know was that she was a villain's sidekick. Instead, she explained. She told them about the modern films and what they wanted from cast members. She told them how she was going to get them involved; increasing their profits in the process.

"You see," she insisted, "_it can be done_. You do not have to live in poverty; there is no reason why you cannot star in these new movies. All you need to do is _adapt_, and I am going to show you how."

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Miss Delphine, but this... this seems a bit _extreme_. Why do we need to adapt? We were living quite well until recently."

"Yes, but times have changed recently. Your lifestyle is not cool anymore; it's not what people want to see in a new movie."

"Well, what is 'cool', then?" asked the Major.

"Precisely; you do not know. So I am going to teach you what's cool – what people want to see, which will earn you profits – and you will be fine. Older people than you have managed to gain reoccurring roles, Major. And you, Mrs Mint" – she turned to Elizabeth – "you would be a perfect background character if you lost some weight around your stomach."

"I'm pregnant."

Delphine blushed. "Oh, I see... what else can you do? Your husband mentioned the theatre."

Elizabeth glanced briefly at Mint before answering. "Well, I write some music... not all the time, but it keeps me busy."

"What sort of music?"

"Classical, really. Oh, and I play the piano at concerts."

"Well, that has to change. But don't worry, I'll help you learn how to play the music people want to hear."

Elizabeth frowned. "People seem to like my music," she said, sounding more than a little bit offended.

"Oh, I'm sure your music's fine. It's just not... modern enough. Like I said, I will fix that." She beamed at them. "I can fix _everything_. Just trust me."

"Should we trust her?"

Twenty minutes after Delphine had left, and Elizabeth still felt she had to ask that question. Oh, she was sure the girl meant well, but didn't she realise what she expected the family to do? This would mean changing their whole lives. She and her husband sat at the kitchen table, cups of tea in front of them. No one was drinking any of it.

"Lizzie," Mint sighed, "what choice do we have? We need money, and the only way to get it is to... _adapt."_

"But are you sure it's a good idea? We barely know this Delphine. Maybe if it was someone like Stacie or Clara I wouldn't be so worried-"

"Well, it's not Stacie or Clara, is it?" Mint banged his fist on the table. "Do you think I want to change my life, Elizabeth? Do you think I'm not happy with the way we are? Well, if we stay the way we are, we will be in poverty! We won't be able to provide for ourselves, never mind our children!"

He took a deep breath, leant across the table and patted his wife's hand.

"This is our last resort, my dear," he sighed. "I don't like it anymore than you do, but it has to be done. We have to learn to be 'cool'."


	5. You certainly aren't stylish enough

_Fashion. _That was the first thing they would have to learn.

Even as she sat in her cramped little room, Delphine wondered if she could actually make this work. Oh, she'd thought she could when she ran into the Major, but she'd been blinded by optimism. Now she wasn't so sure; especially after watching that film last night.

The film had been called _Barbie in the Nutcracker_, and Delphine had picked it up at the small library next to the border. Most villains never rented the movies – no one wanted to watch their own failures and it was considered bad taste to gloat over anyone else's – but Delphine hadn't been worrying about social standards. She'd just gone up, asked the librarian which movie had "Parthenians" in it, and left with it in hand. It had seemed like such a good idea; a way of knowing just how much work she had to do with these people.

She remembered what she'd seen of the Major in that film. She'd seen enough of him now to know that he behaved like that all the time, and his family were no better. It would take a miracle to make that man modern.

"I need to do this," Delphine reminded herself as she looked around the room. "This needs to work. If it doesn't, I'll never get out of here."

She stared at the pictures on the walls. They were mostly cuttings from old fashion magazines, things which both inspired her and blotted out the stains on the wallpaper. She thought about all the newer movies. What had been the most prominent thing in her movie? What seemed to be the only thing anyone cared about nowadays?

Fashion.

_That _was something she could do.

"When people look at you, Major, do you know what they see?"

Delphine was back in the Mint house now, standing at the centre of the room with her bag at her feet. The Major and his wife were sitting on the sofa in front of her, watching her intently. The boys were upstairs; they didn't need to take part in this lesson.

"Well, they see _me_, don't they?" asked Mint.

"Yes, and when you look in the mirror, what do you see?"

"Myself." Then, glancing at his wife, he added: "I see an excellent officer who commands respect from his fellow men."

"Well, Major, I hate to break it to you, but I have to be honest if this lesson is going to get anywhere. That is not what the producers see. That is not what the audience sees. What they see is an awkward old man in a toy soldier costume."

To say Mint was appalled would be an understatement. He sprang up from his seat.

"_I beg your pardon?"_ he snarled. "A _toy soldier costume?_ This is the uniform of the Parthenian Army!"

"... Which happens to look like a toy soldier costume."

"Of course it looks like a soldier costume! I _am_ a soldier!"

"And it is very obvious, Major. However, it will not do you much good. The producers, the people who will pay you, are only interested in what the audience wants too see; and the audience does not want to see old men in soldier costumes."

"Why ever not?" asked the Major, shaking his head in confusion. "We're good men! We protect those kingdoms they're so crazy about!"

"Girls are not interested in soldiers, Major."

"Then why was I in that film in the first place?"

Delphine decided not to answer that; she knew he wouldn't like it and he was furious enough as it was.

"What girls want," she told the couple, "is fashion. Beautiful, stylish dresses like all the celebrities wear! And glitter; lots of glitter!"

"You'll catch me hugging the Mouse King before you catch me wearing glitter," mumbled Major Mint.

Delphine smiled at him. "Perhaps. I understand you are not interested in fashion, Major?"

The way he looked at her spoke for itself. She turned to his wife.

"How about you, Mrs Mint? Are you interested in the latest styles?"

"Well, yes, I suppose," replied Elizabeth. "I mean, I like nice clothes."

"Good. May I look at your wardrobes, please?"

What she saw in those wardrobes reminded Delphine of just how much work she had to do.

"You do have some clothes _besides_ your uniform, don't you, Major?" she asked after sorting through a row of identical red coats. It was a shame that girls weren't into the toy soldier look; if they were, he'd have been a style icon.

"Of course I do!" Mint replied. "My suit's in there somewhere, isn't it, Lizzie?"

His wife nodded. She sat on the bed, her hand resting on her stomach as she watched her husband and Delphine shuffle through their clothing. She tried not to show how uncomfortable she was.

"There it is!" declared the Major, holding out a suit which might have passed for smart if it wasn't so dusty. "I wore this on my wedding day, didn't I, my dear?"

"He did," agreed Elizabeth. Delphine turned to look at her.

"You said you liked nice clothes, Mrs Mint?" she asked Elizabeth.

"I do. I don't have many, though; they do cost a lot."

Delphine looked back at her clothes.

"Do you have any," she asked the Major's wife, "which actually go above your knees?"

"Of course not! I'm a married woman!"

Delphine sighed and turned around to face them.

"You two are hopelessly out of style," she said frankly. "No wonder nobody is paying attention to you! Nobody wants to look at people dressed like this!"

"Nobody's complained before!" Mint retorted.

"You didn't need to be modern before!" Delphine stomped out of the room and made her way downstairs. When the Mints caught up with her, she was ruffling through her bag and tossing magazines onto the sofa.

"Look at those!" she said, pointing to them. "That is what modern looks like! That is what style is! Look at them, go shopping for clothes like that and try and pick something that makes you look good!"

"Aren't you coming with us?" asked the Major as he watched her scoop the bag up.

Delphine shook her head. "I have an appointment to attend," she told them. "Besides, you need to learn to pick decent clothes if you ever want to earn any profits."

But even as she left the house, Delphine wished she could actually go with them. She seriously doubted they'd actually get it right, even with all the fashion magazines in the world. However, it wasn't an option; the shopping mall was in the centre of the Kingdom, and whether she was trying to work miracles or not, Delphine couldn't face an angry mob.

"What is this?" asked the Major.

Elizabeth, who'd been browsing the rack of clothes next to him, glanced at the T-shirt he was holding. "I believe it's a shirt, darling."

"It doesn't have any arms."

She shrugged. "I suppose that's what men wear now. It shouldn't look too bad on you; you have nice arms."

"Why does it say 'hottie' on it?"

This was the third clothes shop the Mints had looked in, and it was already becoming clear to them that they just weren't used to modern clothes. Everything was either too short, too sparkly or just too bizarre. The worst part? That was all there was. As they'd entered the mall – and that was a strange experience in itself, for the Major had never set foot in the place and Elizabeth could count her visits on one hand – they'd noticed a growing trend in the outfits on display.

"Those skirts are awfully short," Elizabeth had muttered to her husband. "I don't know if I can wear something like that, Robert, I really don't."

"You're not going to; I'm not going to have the whole kingdom ogling your legs, my dear!"

"I take it you won't be walking around in a sparkling suit, either?"

Mint had glanced at that display with obvious disgust and shook his head firmly. "There's got to be one normal shop in here," he told his wife. "One that has something we can actually _wear_."

But there wasn't. Standing there, sifting through the racks of clothes and trying to find at least one decent shirt, the Major realised just how serious their situation was. These were "cool" clothes. Not only did they have to wear them, it seemed like they had no choice _but_ to wear them. He certainly didn't. Lizzie could get away with a maternity dress, but he was the one who'd have to be in the limelight. He was the one who'd have to wear these hideous things in order to earn some profits.

He just had to find something suitable...

"So?" Delphine asked. "How did it go?"

She was back at the Mint house again and was actually looking forward to making some progress.

"Well," the Major replied. "We went there, and I assure you I will never return. That place is absolutely insane."

Elizabeth nodded. "It's a miracle we managed to find anything!"

"But you did find something?" asked Delphine, hopefully.

Mint nodded, picking up a shopping bag and tipping it onto the table. Delphine stared at the blue, V-neck sweater. She picked it up.

"Very nice. Where's the rest of it?"

"That is the rest of it," replied Mint haughtily.

"You mean this is all-"

"Miss Delphine, I am not so desperate for money that I am willing to give up my dignity. That is the only garment which was actually suitable, unless your intention is to go around looking like a ragamuffin; and I assure you, mine is _not_!"

Delphine could feel her hopes fading away. "What about you?" she asked Elizabeth. "You said you liked nice dresses! Didn't you get anything?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I wouldn't call those dresses 'nice'. They really are far too revealing."

"Well, I suppose they wouldn't fit you anyway."

Was that _spite_ Elizabeth heard in that girl's voice? Before she could say anything, Delphine looked back at the sweater again.

She should've known. She shouldn't have left these people to pick out clothes by themselves. It was the equivalent of expecting an inexperienced cook to make a gourmet meal. Still, it was a nice sweater, and would make him look a lot more appealing than that uniform did. Maybe if it was combined with that shirt that went with his suit, it could work...

"Look," she sighed. "Forget about the shopping. Did you pick up anything about fashion?"

The couple looked at each other.

"Did you pick up enough to talk about it constantly?"

That confused look again. "Why would we want to do that?" asked Elizabeth.

"Because," Delphine replied, "you don't just have to look stylish. You can dress in the latest fashions as often as you want, but it will mean absolutely nothing if people hear you coming out with those stuffy old phrases."

"I beg your pardon?" asked the Major.

"See? That's what I meant. Who says that anymore? No one who will be earning profits, that's for sure!"

She put her hands on her hips, stood up and looked at the couple as if she was a teacher and they her students; which, technically, they were.

"You want to be modern," she explained. "No, cancel that; you _have_ to be modern, and if that shopping trip is anything to go by, you aren't very good at it. I bet you don't know what an IPod is, do you? How about paparazzi? Twitter?"

Mint frowned. "I fail to see what birds have to do with this, Miss Delphine."

_My point exactly, _she thought, but decided not to say it out loud.

"Precisely; you do not know. I will try to teach you, but the best thing I can do is make it sound as if you do. That'll make you look more interesting, at least. Your dress sense – that'll take some work, I understand. But it's your mannerisms, your way of speaking; they are the things which really need some work, and that goes for your family, too."

"Excuse me, Miss Delphine," said Elizabeth, wringing her hands across her stomach. "But is that really necessary? I don't see why the boys need to-"

"It is _necessary_, Mrs Mint, because if one of you speaks all snooty, it'll ruin your husband's image. He needs to be a hip, modern man; and in order to make that easier, he must be surrounded by an up-to-date family in an up-to-date house. That is why I am here."

Then, ignoring the irritated look on his wife's face, Delphine nodded at the Major. "Trust me; tomorrow I will make you talk like someone people will actually want to listen to."


	6. Talking ridonkulously

They were all there for this one. No matter how much their mother doubted their involvement, both Robert and Cornelius were with their parents as Delphine handed out the lists she'd prepared.

"I am not going to lie," she told them. "This is going to be a lot of work. But it is possible, and it can be done. Take a look at your lists."

Three of them did so; Cornelius, who couldn't read yet, faked interest.

"These are modern phrases; these are the ones I use, and the ones you will have to use if you want to get any kind of acknowledgement. Memorize them, and use them as often as possible. With practise, you should be able to talk like anyone on the street."

Robert Jr put his hand up.

"Miss Delphine?"

"Call me Delphine; no need for the 'miss'."

Robert frowned at this unusual correction. "Um, Delphine... 'ridonkulous' isn't a word."

Delphine sniffed. "Of course it is."

"No, it isn't. Shouldn't it be 'ridiculous'?"

"Absolutely not! 'Ridonkulous' means 'cool', 'amazing'. 'Ridiculous' means... ridiculous."

"But it's not a word."

Delphine slapped her forehead. "That's what I mean, Major. You and your family, you take this language far too seriously."

"We take speaking good English far too seriously?" asked Major Mint, who was slightly stung by the way his son was rebuffed. He'd helped teach his children that 'good English'.

"You take _speaking_ far too seriously. Have you ever heard of slang language? That's what those words are; slang. They're informal, fun and don't make you sound like you belong in a retirement home. I take it you don't speak informally?"

One look at them spoke for itself. They were still dressed up as if they were going to some kind of Victorian fancy dress party.

Delphine sighed. "Let's practise."

They stood in the middle of the room, Mint in his new blue sweater (with the trousers and shirt from his suit thrown in, which actually made him look slightly less dorky, in Delphine's opinion) and Elizabeth in a denim jacket over her pink maternity dress. Delphine had leant her the jacket; Elizabeth had brought out the dress. Both were holding a script.

"Okay," called Delphine, who was sitting on the sofa next to the boys, her arms folded. "Let's start again; and Major, please don't use the phrase 'I say' this time."

The Major took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. This was their fifth practise and these words still seemed completely foreign to him.

He cleared his throat.

"What's up, Elizabeth?" he asked as normally as possible. "Isn't this weather totally _outrageous?_!"

"Oh, yeah!" replied his wife. "It's totally styling!"

"_Stylin'."_ Delphine corrected. "Don't put so much emphasis on the 'g'."

"Oh, sorry." Then, to her husband. "Oh em gee, darling, I just bought the most amazing pair of shoes!"

"Wow!"

"I know! Aren't they ridonkulously cool? And check out this dress, it's designer and I got it for such a great price!" Elizabeth mimed holding out a dress and the Major faked enthusiastic interest.

"Lizzie, that is so fashionable! It's so... I'm freaking out! You have to tell me where you got it! You _have_ to!"

"Oh, it was over at Seaphora. Have you been there? It's so totally cool; don't listen to what the haters say about it, those clothes are _amazing_."

"Oh, yeah, I know that place! It's where I got that new pink designer bag with the sequins and..." he threw down his script. "I'm sorry, _really_?"

Delphine shrugged. "You probably aren't the sequin bag type," she admitted, "but that doesn't matter. You just need to get a feel for the words. That's what's important."

"Well, do we sound like we're doing that?"

_No way, _thought Delphine. They both sounded like they were hamming it up; even Elizabeth's quiet voice managed to make the words sound like a bad Valley Girl parody.

The Major's wife, meanwhile, was flipping through the script.

"Um, Delphine, we seem to be spending an awful lot of time talking about clothes and shoes."

Delphine raised an eyebrow. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Well," Elizabeth continued, "I don't want to sound awkward, but we spend nearly a page and a half talking about giving Robert a makeover-"

"Really?" Mint glared at Delphine. "And why do you think I need one of _those?"_

"And then we spend about three more pages trying on different hats and going on about how 'outrageous' they all are."

"I still don't see what's wrong with that," said Delphine calmly.

"With all due respect, the script is only six pages long." She lowered the script. "I really don't mean to sound awkward, but I don't think anyone talks about clothes this much."

"Well, _we_ do!" Delphine replied indignantly. "All of us modern girls do! Fashion is important to us, and it should be to you! You're a _woman_, aren't you?"

"She's not any less of a woman because she's not obsessed with sparkly dresses!" retorted the Major. Delphine ignored this and walked over to Elizabeth.

"What _do_ you talk about, then?" she asked her. "You and your friends?"

"Music, mostly; or our families, what we've got planned for the future, that sort of thing. I mean, we do talk about clothes on occasions, but not quite-"

Delphine snorted. "Oh, that's right. I forgot you were old. But you can _fake_ interest, can't you?"

"I suppose."

"Then you'll be fine. As for you, Major" – she turned to face him – "you may not be cut out for this role."

"But you said we had to do it," he replied. "Talking the talk and all that."

"There is one other way to fit into a modern movie, and it will actually suit someone of your age. In fact, it will probably suit you more than all the talk about sparkly bags." She was rustling through her bag as she said this.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Because you will not like it."

Major Mint did not like it. In fact, when he read the sheet Delphine gave him, he threw it to one side.

"You did not listen to anything I said, did you?" he snarled at her. "I specifically said I wasn't desperate enough to give up my dignity!"

"It's a good role," insisted Delphine, putting her hands out in front of her. "It's exactly what the old woman in my movie did, and the grandfather in the movie before it."

"What? Act like a madman?"

"I think the correct word is 'eccentric'."

"No, I think the correct word is 'mad'."

"Just try it, Major; try it and watch your sons' faces. They'll love it; and if they love it, so will the audience. You wait and see."

"Hi, darling! What's up?"

That was his cue, according to the new script. Mint was dreading this; bad enough he had to do this at all, but doing it in front of his wife and children was somehow even more embarrassing. He sighed, and put on the most cheerful voice he possibly could.

"Oh, everything's brilliant, my dear! I have just been made the king of the skateboard park!"

"Really? But you're..." Elizabeth frowned and looked at Delphine. "He's not _that_ old."

"Keep going," replied the younger girl.

"Oh, that didn't matter, Lizzie! I was the bomb! Here; check out these moves!"

With that, he dropped the skateboard he was holding and carefully climbed onto it. According to the script, he was supposed to speed away from his wife and then fall off somewhere off screen (or, in this case, somewhere behind where Elizabeth was standing).

This turned out to be the easiest part of the whole day. Even if Mint knew how to ride a skateboard, this one was particularly small; it had been a Christmas gift for Cornelius from a well-meaning neighbour who reckoned the boy might be tired of the toy soldiers he normally received. So it was extraordinarily easy for the Major to climb onto it, skid off course and crash into the wastebasket. He didn't even need to act.

As Elizabeth watched her husband struggle to get up, she glanced at the script again.

"It says I'm supposed to laugh," she said uncertainly.

Delphine nodded.

"That doesn't seem very nice."

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fine. They always are. You're supposed to laugh at how crazy they look. Your sons will enjoy it!"

But even as Delphine said this, she realised the boys weren't laughing. Of course they weren't. She'd completely forgotten that Mint's sons weren't like ordinary children. Cornelius was gaping at the scene in horror and Robert Jr had already sprung up to help his father. Still, Delphine gave it another shot.

"Don't you find that sort of thing funny?" she asked them.

Cornelius only looked at her as if she was mad. Robert Jr, who was helping the Major get to his feet, glared at her incredulously.

"We're not _supposed_ to laugh when Father falls over," he replied. "We wouldn't, anyway. It hurts when you injure yourself."

Not only did Delphine have to admit he had a point, but it brought something home to her. Mint did seem awkward and clumsy; and, she remembered, so was she. She'd done her fair share of tripping up in her own movie, and it _had_ hurt her. Physical comedy may be funny for the audience, but it certainly wasn't funny for the person doing it. She took pity on the Major.

"This probably isn't for you either."

"Thank heavens for that," muttered Mint as he ruffled Robert Jr's hair in gratitude.

What could he do, then? He wasn't stylish enough to be fashionable and he was too dignified to throw himself into physical comedy.

Delphine thought hard. There were serious guys in modern movies. The most popular were love interests, but no way would the Major land _that_ role. The others were small parts; DJs, directors, guys in suits. _That_ would suit Mint; a guy in a suit. Maybe even a guy in a suit who would actually get to speak!

Delphine smiled briefly... then she frowned again. Before Major Mint could pass himself off as a modern-day businessman, he would need to show he actually knew something about gadgets. She glanced around the house worriedly. The most modern thing there was an old black telephone, and it looked like something from a museum. There was certainly no indication of IPods, mobile phones or even a computer.

Delphine had her next lesson.


	7. In which doubts are expressed

_A/N Sorry about the delay. I wasn't feeling too good, and this was a difficult chapter to write. _

Elizabeth had difficulty sleeping that night. Something was keeping her awake, and it took her several hours to figure out what. Once she had, she had even more difficulty sleeping and could only sit upright in bed, trying to come to terms with it.

The Major wasn't having such a problem. He was fast asleep, snoring loudly and occasionally muttering things under his breath. He'd certainly recovered from the fall he'd had that afternoon, although he had a few bruises and hadn't looked very comfortable as he climbed into bed beside her.

"I'm perfectly alright, Elizabeth," Mint had insisted. "Cup of tea and a good night's sleep and I'll be right as rain."

Well, _he_ might be, but _she_ wasn't. There are occasions in one's life when they get the feeling that something is just not right and, if they don't figure out just what it is and try to put a stop to it, it will cause a lot of damage to themselves and the ones they care about. Sitting there, her hand resting on her stomach, Elizabeth realised exactly what this threat was. The modern lifestyle. These attempts to be 'cool'.

She didn't like them. She had never liked them, but actually coming out and saying so took up a lot more bravery than Elizabeth could muster. She had never been good at saying 'no', especially when the person she had to say 'no' to was the Major. A lot of this, she knew, came from her desire to avoid confrontation. That, and she loved her husband dearly. He had to be in charge of everything and she was normally content to let him. Not this time, however. This time – she was certain – he was leading them all into trouble, and Elizabeth couldn't have that. Mint could throw his weight around as much as he wanted and she'd put up with it (after all, she'd married him of her own free will), but she drew the line at anything which might hurt the children. This modern lifestyle, she was sure, would damage them beyond repair.

It's probably easy to assume that Elizabeth was reluctant to change, and that wouldn't be too far from the truth. Elizabeth thought their life was perfectly fine the way it was; her husband was happy, the boys were thriving and she was sure her baby would be born to a comfortable household. And, for a very long time, she trusted the Major to run that household. He certainly knew a lot more about the world than she did. She'd grown up in a small village where everyone knew each other and there were only two books in the whole place. Of course he'd know more than her; that was another reason she was so content to take a back seat. Elizabeth's life may not have been a feminist's dream, but Elizabeth didn't know what feminism was and she knew her life could've been a lot worse. She didn't even mind change that much, as long as it was good and could actually benefit her family. But this change wasn't good at all. This modern world with its fashion obsession and skirts which went high above the knee didn't belong in her family's life.

She couldn't say this to the Major. After all, he thought he was helping them. He thought that, by forcing this modernization upon them, he'd be saving them from poverty. Maybe he would; but at what cost? No amount of money was worth this. But how could she say that to him? He was sacrificing even more than they were. It might make her seem ungrateful, and Elizabeth didn't want to upset him like that.

Then, as she watched him sleeping peacefully, she remembered there _was_ someone out there who could make him stop. _He_ didn't care if he offended the Major or not, so he wasn't afraid to put his foot down whenever Mint did something too ridiculous. He'd always managed to bring Mint to his senses in the past. If anyone would be able to nip this plan in the bud, it would be him. Tomorrow, she'd pay him a visit.

Captain Candy was surprised to see his friend's wife standing at his door. In fact, he was surprised to have any visitors; like Major Mint, he had faded into obscurity and the only visitors he ever had were Mint and his own friend, Prince Eric. Still, he wasn't doing too badly for himself; his house was small but it was nice enough and, since the Captain didn't have to provide for three other people, he made his money go a lot further than Mint's salary ever could.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he said politely. "Haven't seen you in awhile."

"May I come in?" she asked.

The Captain, who was preparing to go out, wasn't sure what to do. Then he saw her face. The woman looked extremely worried.

"What's happened?"

"It's Robert, Captain."

Candy thought it might be.

"I really need your help. He's got this plan and... well, you know what he's like."

Yes; Candy did know what Mint was like.

"Come in, then," he told her. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

She told him everything. The Captain listened in amazement, taking an occasional sip from his cup. It was only when Elizabeth finally stopped that he finally spoke.

What he said, much to her annoyance, was: "this is bad."

"I _know_ it's bad," replied Elizabeth, "but he thinks he has to do it. He thinks it's the only way he can provide for us, so he just keeps at it. The worst part, Captain, is that he_ knows_ it's bad. He hates all this modern business just as much as I do, but he... he just..."

"It's like an order," Candy finished for her. "An order he has to follow. We both know what he's like about orders. If they come from someone he respects, and if he's sure they'll work, he'll follow them no matter how ridiculous they sound."

"But it's not from someone he respects! He barely even knows her!"

"But he thinks she can help him; and let's face it, Elizabeth, no one else has." Heck, _he_ hadn't. Until Elizabeth had arrived, he'd had no idea how badly his friend was dealing with his lack of profits. Mint had never spoken about it, and he hadn't been to the Major's house in quite some time.

"I'm worried about this Delphine person," he continued. "Where'd you say he met her?"

"When he was out shopping for groceries. He didn't say exactly where, though."

_Which, knowing Mint, means it was somewhere particularly awful, _the Captain thought. He didn't say this out loud, of course.

"I assume you don't know where she lives, or what her occupation is?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "All I know is that she's from one of the newer films. She never said which one."

There was silence again. Neither of them were in the habit of watching the movies which were responsible for the kingdom in the first place. It wasn't a mandatory rule, and it really depended on whether or not anyone in the household was interested in watching them. Since Elizabeth's sons were raised to avoid anything girly and Candy wasn't much of a TV watcher anyway, neither of them had seen any of the movies besides _Barbie in the Nutcracker. _

"I really think you ought to see Stacie about this," said the Captain after awhile.

Elizabeth shook her head again; so violently, in fact, that it almost shook her hair loose. "Oh, no, Captain, no-"

"She's more likely to know about this girl than we are. It's her job to know about this sort of thing, Elizabeth. If she can find out more about this Delphine, that'll probably help put our minds at rest."

"But then she'll start asking why we want to know about her, and then she'll start questioning Robert, and he'll _know_..."

"He'll know if I come around and try to talk him out of it." Candy looked Elizabeth straight in the eye. "That's why you came here, isn't it?"

Elizabeth couldn't answer that. "She'll probably be busy, anyway," she insisted. "Doing... whatever movie representatives do. She won't have the time..."

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

Elizabeth still looked reluctant. Candy smiled at her reassuringly.

"Look, I'll come with you. I'll talk to the Major, as well, if you really think that'll work. Besides, you may be right. She may not have the time."

Lady Eustacia Hall, it turned out, had plenty of time, and within moments of their arrival, Elizabeth and Candy were ushered into her office. The young woman sitting behind her desk gave them a polite smile as they sat down.

"Good morning Captain, Aunt Elizabeth. What brings you here?"

"Elizabeth has a problem," the Captain replied. Then, to the other woman, he whispered; "just tell her what you told me."

So she did, feeling extremely uncomfortable as she repeated her husband's goings-on. The problem, really, was that Stacie looked so much like her uncle. She was nearly a decade younger than Elizabeth, but she was taller and had a stern, pointed face. Like Mint, she did her best to look as dignified as possible and always kept her dishwater blonde hair away from her eyes. The result made Elizabeth feel as though she was talking to the Major on one of his "rough days". It also didn't help that the girl liked to make her position so damn obvious. Stacie was proud of her job, and it showed, but it made Elizabeth feel like a schoolgirl snitching on her best friend.

"And it never occurred to you to ask where this girl came from?" Stacie asked her aunt.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I just took Robert's word for it."

"I see. And it never occurred to him to ask _me_ for help?"

"You know what the Major's like, Stacie," said the Captain. "Begging his niece for money would be difficult for him."

"True."

"What we were hoping," he continued, "was that you could find out something about Delphine. Maybe you could find out where she lives, what she does for a living –"

"Or at least what movie she's from," added Elizabeth. "Find that out, at least."

"She hasn't even told you about that?" asked Stacie. "That _is_ odd."

"Well?" asked Candy. "Can you do it?"

"I'll see what I can find."


End file.
